


i’ll never sleep, never cease, ‘til i’m worthy of your love

by sultrygoblin



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, female receiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:40:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24992440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sultrygoblin/pseuds/sultrygoblin
Summary: one shot - there aren’t a lot of beautiful things left in the world. what had he done to deserve you?
Relationships: Theon Greyjoy/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 22





	i’ll never sleep, never cease, ‘til i’m worthy of your love

**Author's Note:**

> post-Reek but pre-all that other stuff. that sweet spot there.

_There’s someone he should see_. Theon had heard it all day. When every one though he wasn’t paying attention or couldn’t hear. Until he ended up here, lead by his sister to the captain’s door while the crew shared looks and snickered openly. He knocks quietly, knowing who must be on the other side and simultaneously hoping it was anyone else and needing it to be you. Silence. He swallows and tries again, harder. There is a loud grunt from the other side, the kind Robb used to give, the one that says thoughts will not allow a full word, he turns the knob and steps in. There you were, the woman who had always managed to incite excitement and fear, doing exactly what he had always imagined you would be. Leading an armada. Maps are spread around a table, you’ve given no thought to the fact you’re in nothing but your underclothes, hiding little from his few. Each strengthened muscle, scarred skin, and newly healing flesh. A true Ironborn. When the silence stretches too long it’s clear from your creased face something is wrong. For the first time in years, you look at him, and he wishes you hadn’t. He might’ve been horrible but at least he’d been whole, proud - if in all the wrong ways. Now he was just a ghost of his former self. Tears burn in his eyes when he dares to lock them with yours. There is no pity. No anger or hatred. Only love, the love had believed you would lose. The love he didn’t deserve.

* * *

“Close the door,” your voice sends shivers through his body but he obeys, turning to make sure it was firmly closed and tightly locked.

If only to avoid that far too understanding gaze. But he can’t forever. When the courage to turn has finally built inside him he finds you right in front of him. Looking at him with those always searching eyes. Soft hands hold his face, your touch far gentler than he had ever imagined. He wants to close his eyes, hide, especially when the tears begin to roll down his dirty cheeks. But he refuses. The memory of your face had kept him sane for so long, he needs to see it. Just a bit older now, a new scar on your lip, another slashes the left side of your face from brow to neck and beyond. Your nose a bit more crooked. But beautiful. _Always beautiful._

“I warned you, Theon,” your whisper is hoarse, those eyes that haunt his dreams are glassy, “I told you,” your voice angry, “Why?” and somehow needy.

“I was weak,” he croaks, losing himself in your skin against his, “I was lost,” how somehow you were still showering with all the love he’d done nothing to earn, “I wanted to believe you still loved me. But how could you?” fingers twirling in the strands of y our nightgowns tie, “I had nothing else, I did what I had to do. Everything since then has lead me here,” you run your hands along his face, through his dirty hair and down his neck, “I love you,” he has no idea what more to say.

The tears look wrong on your cheeks. Nothing should make you cry, let alone him. The kiss he presses to your lips is shaking, eyes open, prepared to be pushed away. So close to terrified, prepared for the disgust he deserves. But there is none. You press forward. Soft and unsure. _Always so unsure when it comes to anything with a cock_. He had mocked you once. Now he wants to drown himself in this small part of you that is only for him. The one part of you that isn’t made of smoke and stone.

You smile against his lips, “I do believe it’s time for my bath,” stepping backward with that mischievous smile that hadn’t really changed since childhood.

He starts the water while she drags the tub to the center of the room, the linens come next. There’s the faintest smell of sweetness and floral that becomes stronger when the warm water pours into the basin and steam begins to curl upwards. You temp the water until it’s just right and you leave the last pot of warm water close by. Just in case. 

“Undress,” holding his gaze. He shakes, for a second his old Lord’s voice rings in his ear, “ _Please_ ,” your tenderness chases it away.

Slowly he pulls off the coat, the scarf, his dirtied blouse comes next. Never does your gaze stray. He toes off ratty boots, it is only when his hands meet the top of his trousers does he stop. You seem to expect it, giving him a smile so soft. Just like he remember. In the rare moments of weakness, he would allow himself in your presence what felt like a lifetime ago. White, sheer fabric obscures your face briefly and the sound of soft fabric hitting the wood floor pounded in his ears.

“Look.”

Not an order but an invitation. He’s been desperate for this moment for as long as he can remember. Your skin is marred, some scars are new and angry, others have been there longer than he’s known you. Your belly is slashed with the mangled flesh of what could only be a burn. The Ironborn he could never be, beautiful violence. You step around the tub, chest rising and falling with each practiced breath, till you’re standing in front of him.

“Undress,” you whisper, taking a step back and lifting your leg to beginning your descent into the warm water, “Join me.”

Easing into the water until your back pressed against the warmed fabric, fingertips barely skating the cabin floor as they hung on either side, eyes never leaving his. There is nowhere you’d rather be looking. You can see him shake, worried as he lowers his trousers. But you never take your eyes from his, allowing him what little modesty you can offer. He slips into the water quickly and you pull him close. Back against you, arms around him, chin on his shoulder.

“Yara asked me to come,” you say, dipping your hands in the water and beginning to work them through his hair, “I was a coward for not going,” his hand dips beneath the water, gripping your knee, “Every day I regret not coming. I always wondered if you would have-”

“No,” he feels your breath catch, grabbing your forearm quickly to bring your wrist to his mouth, “Just now,” place a tender kiss to the skin, matching it upwards to the center of your palm and across each finger.

You hold him tight, helping him clean himself body and mind. Never looking for more, never wanting to ask for it. He wishes he could. He wants nothing more than to pull you on top of him and give you everything he should have been this whole time. But he can’t. He can just lay there in your arms. You lay there till the water was cold and not even the extra pot could offer warmth. You both climb from the tub, water streaming as your drug the wood across the floor, and worked together to heave the water out your cabin window.

You take turns drying each other from head to toe. He explores you first. Every curve, nook, cranny, scar, and freckle. By the end, he wants to be able to list them from memory. And delay the inevitable. The ship creaks, the candles flicker and die in the winds. You look at him with nothing but love when you bring the cloth between his thighs. There’s nothing but the two of you in this room. It’s him who drags you to the alcove of your bed.

The kiss he lays on your lips this time is far more confident, some shard of the old Theon comes to do what he can with what he has. The way you melt into the bed rather than spar against him is familiar to him. He’s never been so focused on a woman’s body before. This is all he has of you. He wants to memorize every inch of you inside and out. You moan against his lips, trying to pull away. To tell him it’s okay. That he can stop. His fingers pluck a nipple and you squeak against his mouth.

“It is nice to know some things never change,” he mumbles against your lips, a smile you both share splitting your lips, your fingers trace the stubble along his jaw, “It will be alright,” plucking the nub again and using your yip to illustrate his point, “ _I_ will be alright.”

Any argument dies in your throat when he wraps his mouth around it’s twin, sucking lightly as his flayed fingers ran along molten flesh. Your body shivers, no ones ever touched these parts of you, paid attention to more than the apex between your thighs. Right where you directed them. As always, Theon would be the exception to your rules. Carting his fingers through the curls of your mound, his scarred fingers an entirely new sensation on the straining bundle of nerves men so often ignored. Before he would never have taken the time to lavish you with his attentions, now it is all he has. He’s happy to give it to you.

You ran your fingers through his hair, along his back, discovering his own marks of survival. He moans, a sound you never expected that vibrates through you. Your back arches as his fingers speed up, continuing the circular motion that hitched your breath before dragging a long whimper from your throat. 

“I will be fine,” his lips ghosting along your skin as he dragged them upwards, “Let me love you,” his words curl heated breath along your sensitive skin.

Your undoing comes crashing down around you suddenly, jagged nails digging into his flesh, he hisses. A noise hefty with pleasure in a way you’ve never heard. 

“Just like that, darling,” he coos, it’s familiar and he feels as close to his old self as he will ever be again.

He never stops his attentions, pushing you through the fog to the other side, and never stopping. His thumb takes point, teeth nipping at the flesh of your clenched jaw, his fingers slipping lower and lower, till they teased your entrance. You want to tell him it’s okay, you don’t expect this. He can stop. But even without his cock, there’s still lust in his eyes, clamoring for some end that is now a complete unknown. Your words disappear when he slips to fingers into you.

“Gods Theon,” your voice hoarse as your head fell back, eyes fluttering closed.

The wave crests again, he’s pressed against you, twisting and thrusting his fingers in and out of your quivering channel.

“I know, I know.”

He repeats the words as his lips move down your body, farther and farther. In your wildest dreams, you had never imagined it would be like this with him. There’s a nagging disappointment in the back of your mind, one you ignore. It time it would quiet entirely, you’re sure, for now you focus on his lips replacing his thumb. His tongue swirls as he sucks it lightly and you shriek. Thighs clenched around his ears, hands in his hair, desperate and rutting against his face. But not for long, his free arm presses along your hips, holding you firmly against the soft furs.

You can’t catch your breath, it comes in pants. And he never stops. Where there would’ve been a decent downwards, a moment to catch your breath, there is none. His movements never stopping. You’ve never cum in such quick succession before but only a few moments pass before you’re screaming his name. Every muscle tensing, desperate to thrash and given no relief. Then another. And another. Your body starts to go limp, hands falling to the bed. The only grip you manage is coverings in your fists. Your hips too tired to fight have been released. His fingers and tongue switch places. The taut appendage slipping and out of you. All you can do is moan, letting the overwhelming release wash over you again and again. Everything is foggy, you can’t think straight, you’re quite sure the world is going black at the edges. 

And he doesn’t stop. Peppering your thighs with kisses, his thumb, and fingers returning to a motion they seem to know quite well by now. It’s beautifully painful, the throbbing between your legs will continue on into the next day. It’s all worth it. The last thing you remember, before the world really did go black, was his lips in your neck. Muttering those three words over and over again.

“I love you.”

Until it’s broken with four words you aren’t given the chance to argue.

“I don’t deserve you.”


End file.
